A pub in Dingle. A flute. A guitar.
Tiny. Packed. Silent, except for the music.
And the clinking of glasses.
And down the street, these guys.
Freshly showered, but with mud still on their shoes.
One look at each other, and they began a tune. Perfect unison.
And then the piper joined in.
And the whistler player and the drummer and flute player...
...and the glasses clinked.
And so. At my concert on the 16th, it will be me. The harp. A cozy, intimate place. I hope it will be packed (get your tickets now!). Music. The clinking of glasses.
I hope you can join me for it.